March 12, 1944

Dear Jack,
To-night is one of these quiet nights we very seldom have so I am taking advantage of it and trying to catch up on my correspondence. I received a letter to-day from you dated the 14^th and written the eighth. Meanwhile I have gotten letters written the 18^th and 23^rd. You just can’t depend on the mail system but I know they do their best. Why should I hitch at least I hear from you. You mentioned in this letter that I never address you as Jack so here to forth it shall be only remembered that my darling goes after it even though you can’t see it.

Guess what, I am cooking a pheasant on a hot plate here. The boys on nights with me cleaned it and cut it up and it is my job to cook it. If they only knew what a good cook I am. One of the civilians that works here gave it to them. We’ll let you know if I am a failure or success. Earlier this evening we had another rare treat. Real honest to goodness scrambled eggs on buttered toast. Was that good. I haven’t eaten an egg since I’ve arrived way back in October. If you only knew what I wouldn’t give for a chocolate shake and hamburger at the Club at Pine Camp with you sitting beside me. I often think that when we get back to the states we won’t be able to appreciate good food.

I was just in to take a peck at the pheasant and does it smell good.

I haven’t heard from Carl in a long time but imagine he is pretty busy at the moment. Mother wrote and said he is now a squad commander with 103 men under him. Has flown five times and only has 4 or 5 weeks more before he goes to California. He is looking forward to a furlough as it is a year this month since he left home. Thursday is scarce so will finish with this poem.

My Prayer

An April day will come again

When trees all winter bare

Will grow their boughs with green once more

And, darling, you’ll be there.

A summer’s day will greet the earth

With boun sun to span,

And rippling waves and sands will call;

And, darling, you’ll be there.

A day of Fall, too soon will come,

With longer nights to share,

To walk with leaves all fluttering down

And, darling, you’ll be there.

A Winter frost will find the night

A gleam with snow drifts glare,

With evenings long and sweet and warm,

And, darling, you’ll be there.

In all my dreams I see these things,

And, dear one, here is my prayer:

That we may ever know these things,

And always you’ll be there.

Will close with good morning, sweet heart I miss you and love you with all my heart.

As ever,

Winifred